Hello friends, Samm Bennett here. Like many folks these days, I spend a lot of time on the internet. I'm active at a site called Metafilter, and at Facebook and Flickr, where over the past few years I've posted a fair amount of poetry and songs in threads at those sites: stuff that I've usually written quickly and at the spur of the moment, specifically referring to some link or topic of discussion in some thread. Just for fun, mainly, but I also find it kinda keeps my writing muscles in shape: a little practice here and there, you know. Compiled here are some of these little bits of verse. Most of it is lightweight, often silly. Like I said, it's just for fun.

Each poem here is preceded by a bit of background context. In many cases, the poems were sparked by a quote from a linked article or video, or a comment made by someone in a thread, and I've included those quotes or paraphrasing where necessary.

William and Ludwina Puke

The image above was posted to the PLONSKY group at Facebook, and I wrote this for it:

William and Ludwina Pukeshe played kazoo, he played the uketheir fame, my friend, it was no flukefor they played well, the family Pukebut once they played a joint in Maineonstage, Ludwina felt a painand so did William, and they knewtwas what they'd eaten: twas the stewalas, the poisoning killed the wifeit ended poor Ludwina's lifewithout kazoo, Will stopped the ukeand died soon after, William Pukethey left six kids, to carry onand play the dear old Puke-y songsthey've played for Kings & Earls & Dukesthey're very good, the Little Pukes.

Downloaded in Seconds

Metafilter thread: this comment appeared in a thread about music and the internet:"Now, even the rare stuff can be downloaded in seconds with a simple search string in Google." The comment inspired this little poem:

Metafilter thread: under discussion was a YouTube video someone had posted, about one of the Apollo astronauts, specifically, his radio transmissions about his having gas while on the moon! It inspired this poem:

farting on the moona spaceman passing gasit stays there in his suitit lingers round his assand if some fumes escapewell, ain't no one to smell itand no one would've knownif spaceman didn't tell it

but there it is on tapehe told us he broke windit's all there on the recordain't no denying, friendwhen man walked on the moonhe cut the cheese, it's trueand hey, if you went to the moonwell, you might do it too

Tacos Round the World

Metafilter thread: This pull quote from a linked article:"Jeffrey M. Pilcher, professor of history at the University of Minnesota, has traveled around the world eating tacos." inspired this poem:

had tacos in Miami, had tacos in Bombayover in Saint Petersburg, and down in San Joseate 'em up in Reykjavík, and in Toledo, toobut never had a taco babe, that tastes as good as you

I've munched 'em in Madrid and Mons, Accra and AmsterdamHavana, Warsaw, New Orleans, and down in Birmingham Lagos, Philly, Dublin, Rome, and hey! Kalamazoo!but never had a taco babe, that tastes as good as you

I've swallowed 'em in Singapore, Seville and SantiagoI've chewed in Chula Vista, Corpus Christi and Chicagotasty tacos in Taipei, Tangiers and Taos toobut never had a taco babe, that tastes as good as you

Ol' Bill Burroughs

Saw this image posted to Facebook. It inspired this poem...

ol' Bill Burroughsstood on his headaimed *near* the appleshot his wife dead

I Can Rhyme Albania

There was a thread at Metafilter about old bunkers in Albania. Someone in the thread posted this: "Not a whole lot of words rhyme with Albania." Ah! A challenge! So...

Q: How many folksingers does it take to change a light bulb?A: Two. One to change the bulb, and one to write a song about how good the old one was.

The joke inspired this poem, to be sung in your most earnest Pete Seeger imitation::

ah, the old bulbs were the bestthey had that certain glowwhy friend, they'd burn so sweetlythese folks today don't knowwe'd pick guitars and sing old songsbeneath their amber lightthese bulbs they make today, my friendthey're way too gosh darned bright

bulbs that lit the union hallswhere men would sing their songsabout how we were brotherswe'd right the bosses wrongs!the bulbs that lit the stages of the Greenwich Village diveswhere old black men showed white kidshow to play guitars with knives

so don't forget the old bulbsthey were the best, my friendbut now this little light bulb song has reached its bulbous end

The Bagpipes of Lisbon

I believe it was a Facebook thread: someone mentioned "the bagpipes of Lisbon", which inspired this little poem:

oh the bagpipes of Lisbon were blowing, were blowingthe lawn mowers of Oshkosh were mowing, were mowingthe tow trucks of Pittsburgh were towing, were towingand me? well i've got to be going, I'm going

It Rolled on Down

Metafilter thread: someone linked to a video of some guys who managed to roll an enormous tractor tire down a steep hillside and finally into a lake. It bounced very high at various points on its way down.The clip inspired this poem:

we rolled a tire down the mountainsideit rolled on down it rolled on downa crazy beautiful bouncing rideit rolled on down it rolled on downit made us happy, don't you seeit rolled on down it rolled on downthat tractor tire, we set it freeit rolled on down it rolled on down

Directive

One of the subsites of Metafilter is called MetaTalk, where users can make posts concerning Metafilter itself (i.e. complaining about deletions or bugs, making feature suggestions, etc). Someone made a MetaTalk post saying users should stop using the tl;dr abbreviation, and framed the suggestion as a "new directive". And that inspired this little poem:

your directive is subjective (one couldn't say collective)though free of foul invectiveit's clearly non-objectiveit seeks to be correctiveto make folks more selectivebut being so protectivewill never be effective

A Wall of Text

From the same MetaTalk thread as just above, someone made this comment concerning posting style:

"I'll take walls of well-thought-out text over favorite-grubbing one-liners and pointless snark any day."

The comment inspired this poem:

I came to a wallof well-thought-out textand I thought to myself"hey, I'll read this next!"but then was divertedby some pointless snarkthen looked out my windowoutside to the parksaw a pretty young girlsitting there on the grassand I thought "man, I oughtta get up off my assand go down to the park"which I did, while a-thinking:"maybe I should bring somethingthat she might like drinking"then I thought to myself:"am I oversexed?"but forgot all aboutthat well-thought-out text

Rooftop Solar KILLS!

This one isn't a poem, more of a mini-wall 'o' text. From a Metafilter thread about nuclear power. Someone was (I ain't kidding) trying to make the point (albeit in humorous fashion) that solar energy is more dangerous than nuclear energy. This was the comment:"Interestingly, rooftop solar kills .44 people per TWh, which is 10 times more than nuclear. I guess people fall down a lot..." That comment inspired this little story:

Did you hear about that guy who fell off his roof installing a solar panel? He landed on his son's skateboard, which went careening down the driveway and into the street, where a truck, swerving to avoid it, hit a pipeline carrying natural gas, which exploded. The explosion was heard by workers at the nearby nuclear power plant, who stepped away from their control panels long enough to miss the warning signals of an imminent criticality accident. The nuke blew up and irradiated all livestock and vegetables in a 100-mile radius, followed immediately by a torrent of online and media statements of support for nuclear power, most of it pointing to the fact that nuclear power is much, much safer than putting a solar panel on your roof.

Cassettes that Went Down in the Flood

In a Metafilter thread about cassette tapes, someone mentioned that their cassette collection had been destroyed in a flood. Then another person mentioned the comment, saying that he felt an odd connection to the flood comment and then wrote: "looks hopefully at flapjax for a song" (my Metafilter username is "flapjax at midnite" and yes, I occasionally get requests like that). So, I wrote and posted this:

there came torrential rainsthey fell from all directionthen came that mighty floodkilled my cassette collectionthe classic rock, new wave and punkthe deluge took it allthe David Bowie and the Smithsthe Damned, the Cure, the Fallall hip hop was submergedthe Wu Tang Clan was drenchedChuck D and Flava Flav were soakedthe P.E. fist unclenchedthe mix tapes all were drownedi'd worked so hard on thosethey'd vanished in the waterslike cocaine up Rick James' noseso, gone was all my musicand what i did, you see,was go and buy it all againin brand new form: CD

I know, I know - this is a Sneetch. Couldn't find a Skink.

The Skink

In a Metafilter thread about animals, someone mentioned the skink, which is a lizard, and wrote: "A skink sounds like a Dr. Seuss animal"

This inspired a Dr. Seuss-style poem...

From a forest down deep in the land of GazinkCame a slithering, dithering creature, the Skink!He skinked cross the valley, he skinked cross the skyfor the Skink could go this way and that, and could fly!He burrowed and furrowed and churned up the ground,then rolled cross the fields, without making a sound.Then one day he said: do you know what I think?I think I'll go back to the land of Gazink!From Gazinkian rivers I now want to drink!And that was the last we all saw of the Skink.

The Fleeting Tweets of the Deceased

Someone made a post at Metafilter linking to a site called The Tweet Hereafter, where Twitter posts that were the "last tweets" of now deceased people may be read. The site was described in the post as a place where one could find "the fleeting tweets of the deceased", a phrase which immediately inspired this poem:

the fleeting tweets of the deceasedtheir laundry done, their trousers creasedtheir lunches bought, apartments leasedthe fleeting tweets of the deceased

while still alive, the things they saidare here forever, though they're deadwhat time they ate, or went to bedand now they're gone, their tweets still read

those little tweets, all quite mundane'bout something stuck down in the drainor having missed their evening trainor getting caught in sudden rain

and we still here, out on the streetwe ain't got that grim reaper beatwe, too, will go down to defeat reflect on that, next time you tweet

There was a Metafilter post about the video to the left, an amazing moment when a concert pianist, expecting to play one Mozart concerto, was suddenly faced with having to play another, from memory, when the orchestra started performing one that she hadn't expected! It inspired this poem:i played the wrong concertoi played it note for notei played it all from memoryjust like ol' Mozart wrotebut when they called the next tunei ran out of the placei just can't play like Jerry Leeand rock "Chantilly Lace"